Vere looked at me curiously when I returned to the seat by her side, and I told her the truth.
“I tried to read, I did, honestly, but I heard a good deal! It was your own fault. You wouldn’t let me go away.”
“Then you know something you may not have known before—how a good man can love! I have treated Jim Carstairs like a dog, and this is how he behaves in return. I don’t deserve such devotion.”
“Nobody does. But I envy you, Vere. I envy you even now, with all your pain. It must be the best thing in the world to be loved like that.”
“Sentimental child!” she said, smiling; but it was a real smile, not a sneer; and when mother came up a few minutes later, Vere looked at her anxiously, noticing for the very first time how ill and worn she looked.
“You looked fagged, mother dear. Do sit still and rest,” she said, in her old, caressing manner. Mother flushed, and looked ten years younger on the spot.
Chapter Fourteen.
September 20th.